


With a Little Help (Secret Santa 2019)

by Forestwater



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: (I mean mostly), (i mean implied but still), (i mean they go to a strip club like the T+ rating is deserved), (though there are definitely some references to adult stuff), Bisexual Gwen, Drinking, Fluff, Friendship, Jasper lives au, Love Confessions, M/M, Questioning Sexuality, Secret Santa 2019, and wholesome, bisexual David, bisexual jasper, demisexual david, everyone is bi, homophobia (past) (implied), seriously these tags are emo as hell but it's actually very sweet, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21820720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forestwater/pseuds/Forestwater
Summary: Gwen begins questioning her sexuality, and comes to her coworkers for help. Jasper starts reminiscing about his own past, and just how lucky he is today.(Updates every 2-3 days until Christmas 2019)
Relationships: Bonquisha/ Gwen (Camp Camp) (past) (implied), David & Gwen & Jasper (Camp Camp), David/Jasper (Camp Camp), Gwen & Jasper (Camp Camp)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	1. June 25, 2016 / December 13, 2004

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, thebeesfriend! I'm your Secret Santa this year, and I hope you enjoy this story! The tags make it sound a lot more intense than it is; it's really very sweet and silly, mostly. 
> 
> If you'd like to join the annual Camp Camp Secret Santa event, check it out on [tumblr!](https://campcamp-secretsanta.tumblr.com/) Annual signups usually go out shortly after Thanksgiving.

#  **June 25, 2016**

##  _2:17 PM_

“Hey, can I ask you kind of a weird question?”

Jasper paused, wax dripping from a lit stub of candle onto the paper airplane in his other hand. “Is it ‘what the fuck are you doing with our emergency lights-out supplies?” he asked, knowing before the words left his mouth that it wasn’t. Gwen didn’t ask permission to tear into her co-counselors for being idiots, especially when fire was involved, and her expression and voice both had a nervous, hesitant lilt he wasn’t used to and didn’t like. She was a firecracker -- quietly smoldering until something made her explode, and then she was gone in a flash of fire too dangerous to stand nearby. Shyness didn’t suit her.

At least she wasn’t popping tranquilizers like they were Skittles, he noted hopefully, shifting his supplies to make room for her to sit down. Things couldn’t be camp-ruining bad or she’d be having twelve different panic attacks simultaneously. As she sat down, Jasper noticed she kept tugging strands of hair free from her ponytail, twisting them around her fingers.

“Everything okay?” he finally tried, when a solid fifteen seconds had gone by without a response. He wasn’t exactly a “fill the silence with chatter” kinda guy, but with David off preparing for one of his ill-advised contests against the Woodscouts, Jasper was alone for the first time all summer with the only person at camp he tried to avoid being alone with. Gwen . . . intimidated him. A little bit. Maybe it was that she’d been a counselor longer than him and had seniority, maybe it was the way David was convinced she could do no wrong. Maybe it was because she could do more damage to -- and with -- a guitar than Pete Townsend and smiled even less than Quartermaster, and he couldn’t get a read on her no matter how many summers passed. Or hell, maybe it was because he was just as much of an awkward disaster around pretty girls as any other nerd, and being madly in love with his boyfriend hadn’t magically given him social skills. It was a mystery, really. “What’s crackin, cap’n?”

(Case in point.)

She groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger -- a tic of Jasper's that had rubbed off on both Gwen and David. “I . . . what the fuck am I doing? No, fuck it, it’s -- I’m gonna go --”

“Hey.” Jasper took her wrist before she could get up, setting aside his airplane and candle. “You need to talk?” When she shrugged, not meeting his eyes and looking extremely reluctant, he tried a smile and added, “Come on, we're CBFLs. It’s gotta have some perks, right?”

She shook her head with an amused huff of air and made no move to stand back up. She’d twirled a strand of hair so many times around her finger that the poor finger was striped red and white as she released the hair. “Fuck, yeah. I guess. It’s not even a big deal or anything,” she said, puffing her cheeks out in a sigh. “Might as well.”

And then she . . . didn’t say anything. Just pressed her lips together and stared down at the scarred wooden table, sliding her hands under her thighs (to keep from playing with her hair again, he suspected).

After a few minutes Jasper shrugged and went back to his project, tilting the candle so wax drizzled into the crevices of the airplane’s wings. If he had something to spread the wax around, this would probably be a lot easier and --

“How’d you know you were into guys?”

The suddenness of the question, and the too-loud way she’d blurted it out, made him jump, spilling a thick glob of wax onto his knuckles. “Jinkies Christ!” he hissed, quickly setting the candle down and shaking his hand (which didn’t do anything to either remove the wax or cool it down, but it made him feel better regardless). “Sorry, _what_ was that?”

Gwen stared at him, the corners of her lips twitching. She immediately covered her mouth with her hand, so all he caught was a glimpse of a fledgling smile. “Did you just say _‘jinkies christ’?”_

Some of the tension drained away, lightening the air in the Mess Hall. “David wants me to stop swearing so much at camp,” he admitted, grinning. “Results so far have been . . . mixed.”

“If you’re not careful, that might catch on.”

Jasper’s heart leapt at the idea. “I have literally never wanted anything so badly in my entire life.” They fell silent again, though he made no move to pick the candle back up.

She nodded, picking up his airplane and inspecting it absently. “I -- might be bi?” she said uncertainly, gently scraping the excess wax off of the paper plane with her fingernail. “I don’t know for sure, so maybe not, but . . .”

Oh, fuck. This was a big moment. It was the kind of Big Moments David dreamed of, the kind he handled with so much more warm-heartedness than Jasper, who always sounded sarcastic when he tried to be nice; David would be so jealous he missed out, and he’d demand Jasper remember every detail (and not the ones about Gwen accidentally destroying his plane project), and would be so disappointed if he fucked this up . . .

Aaaand he’d been sitting here for like ten seconds not saying anything, like a dick. Fuck. “Hey, that’s cool!” he said, making her jump because he practically yelled it out of nowhere like a goddamn _psycho_. “I mean, welcome to the club!”

She didn’t make fun of him for being a massive goober, and for that he’d be eternally grateful. “But I should -- like, _know_ , right?” she asked, setting aside his slightly-mangled plane (and making him breathe a sigh of relief). “I feel like it’s one of those things that . . . people fucking _know_. Like you are or you aren’t, and you can tell.” 

“Not always,” he said, probably telling the truth but not really sure. Could he Google “how to help your friend come out without having a huge anxiety attack” without her noticing? “You hear about people who’re . . . y’know, super old and come out as gay or bi or trans or whatever. So I bet there are a lotta people like that.”

Could he just call David and have him talk her through this over the phone? Then he could do what he was actually good at: making paper airplanes -- he didn’t know how to do boats -- and coating them in wax, so that he could reenact the opening scene of _It_ the next time it rained (hopefully minus the clowns and dismemberment).

“Yeah?” She looked a little bit less depressed than usual, and Jasper decided to take that as a win. The guidance counselor in high school who told him he’d be a “total nightmare for anyone who needed therapy and should never ever ever go into psychology” could suck it! He was great at this.

Probably.

As long as the conversation ended right now, before he had the chance to put his foot in his mouth.

“So did _you_ just always know?” she asked after a moment.

Or not.

Jasper hadn’t started his day with the intention to have an involved conversation with his not-very-close coworker about his sexuality. But fuck if Camp Campbell wasn’t full of fun unexpected surprises. “I mean, I figured it out pretty early,” he said with a shrug. “There was this annoying little redheaded kid who wouldn’t leave me alone --” She snorted, making him smile. “-- and eventually he grew on me. And then I didn’t have to wonder if I liked boys, because I already . . . just sort of did.”

David had made it easy to come to terms with his sexuality, because he’d fallen for him before he’d had a chance to even question it.

It was always just _him_.

* * *

#  **December 13, 2004**

##  _12:40 AM_

> **davidegreenwood1217:** no its really easy
> 
> **davidegreenwood1217:** i’ll show you at cmap!
> 
> **davidegreenwood1217:** camp (^_^;)
> 
> **pidgeohno:** no way! im not waiting that long
> 
> **pidgeohno:** ill show up @ ur house myslef
> 
> **davidegreenwood1217:** uou don’t know where my house is!
> 
> **pidgeohno:** *googles ‘where is canada’*
> 
> **davidegreenwood1217:** you
> 
> **pidgeohno:** *googles ‘how to steal parents car’*
> 
> **davidegreenwood1217:** JASP! (~_~)
> 
> **davidegreenwood1217:** (^.^)
> 
> **pidgeohno:** *googles ‘how to drive’*
> 
> **pidgeohno:** 2 late davey im on my way
> 
> **pidgeohno:** ur zelfa secrets r mine
> 
> **pidgeohno:** *laughs evilly*
> 
> **davidegreenwood1217:** (>.<)
> 
> **davidegreenwood1217:** i wish you were really visiting
> 
> **davidegreenwood1217:** camp is so far away
> 
> **pidgeohno:** me 2, davey
> 
> **pidgeohno:** cant b-leve ur making me miss cc *groans*
> 
> **davidegreenwood1217:** oh no mom’s making me go to bed!
> 
> **davidegreenwood1217:** goodnight jasp (-_-)zzz
> 
> **davidegreenwood1217:** <3

Jasper paused, watching as David’s screen name grayed out. He sighed and closed the window, watching his unsent message -- ‘ _mayb my parents will let u visit 4 new years’_ \-- disappear along with their chat.

It was probably for the best. He and Davey were . . . camp friends. They’d known each other for three years and never met in person except for the endless awful, magical summers at Camp Campbell. They might not even _like_ each other if they met outside of camp; they had nothing in common, after all, and Jasper was pretty sure his other friends would think David was a total dorkus. (They’d be right.)

The fact that they talked online for hours every day, and sometimes tied up their parents’ phone lines when they were so excited typing was too much of a hassle . . .

There was a knock on his bedroom door. “Jasper? I see a light.”

He winced, shutting down his computer. “Going to bed, Mom,” he called back, mentally noting that even with his bedroom lights off his mother could see the glow of the screen, which meant she might be some sort of mutant with super-night-vision.

He’d have to tell Davey about that theory later.

Jasper flopped into bed, wishing he could steal his dad’s cell phone or something. He was too restless to sleep, jittery with thoughts of what he’d talk to Davey about tomorrow: brief snatches of imagined conversations, things he’d forgotten to mention because they’d gotten too distracted with other topics, jokes that he knew would make David laugh -- that dopey giggle he didn’t always let slip, high-pitched and breathless and squeaky like a dropped chew toy --

His stomach jolted, hard and sudden enough to make him feel like the entire bed had dropped from beneath him. He sat up, pulling his blanket up over his head and sitting in the little tent made under the covers. Resting his forehead on his drawn-up knees and feeling his breath turn the air damp and hot and almost too stifling to bear, he closed his eyes and focused on the lurching _thud-thud_ of his heartbeat -- a rhythm that had sped up and turned violent at the thought of his best-camp-friend’s stupid laugh, accompanied by a twisting in his chest that almost hurt, in a good way.

He wriggled free of his oppressive blanket fort, finding his bedside table by half-moonlight, half-muscle-memory and snagging a notebook and pencil, then sneaking over to the window and turning to a fresh page.

 ~~ _12/12_~~ _\--_ no, it was technically morning, wasn’t it? He crossed that out -- _12/13/04:_

_Might b in luv w/ Davey. Find out ASAP and DON’T LET HIM KNOW!!!!_

Jasper underlined “don’t let him know” three times and put the notebook away, feeling inexplicably lighter.

He didn’t sleep at all that night, but somehow he still had good dreams anyway.


	2. July 6, 2016 / March 30, 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen has a proposition.  
> Jasper has no ideas, and a best friend tired of all his whining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, if you WANT to think of this as OT3-lite, I'm not saying you CAN'T. If you want to not look at it like that, you definitely don't have to. 
> 
> Also, Julia is both an Original Character and . . . not, if that makes sense? She's what happens when the lovely [HopefullyPessimistic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopefullyPessimistic/pseuds/HopefullyPessimistic) looks at [a picture of all the campers from David's childhood](https://campcamp.fandom.com/wiki/Jasper/Gallery?file=Camp_Campbell_Wants_YOU!_077.png) and latches onto the one with purple pigtails and turns her into basically my favorite character in the entire world. Meet Julia, the punk-adjacent ace lesbian we all wish we were on the inside, and David and Jasper's non-biological, non-legal, just-in-their-hearts-but-that-totally-counts sister.

#  **July 6, 2016**

##  _4:38 PM_

“Hey, guys.” Gwen collapsed into the remaining lawn chair Jasper and David had scavenged from the supply shed, handing David a clipboard and watching the campers chase each other around. She winced, reaching beneath her and plucking a nail-shaped mound of rust from the chair’s seat. “How’s 'Keep the Kids from Getting Heatstroke' Camp going?”

Jasper held out his hand and she dropped the nail into his palm, which he deposited into the hideous-but-useful fanny pack David had talked him into. (At least he’d gotten to pick it out: found in a dusty corner of a thrift shop, it had been lovingly embroidered with tropical fruits and birds that absolutely did not exist in nature. It looked like one of David’s great-grandmother’s sweaters and was so offensive to the eyes that he couldn’t help smiling every time he looked at it.) “No injuries yet, but I’ve been keeping an eye on the usual suspects.”

 _“Jasp!”_ David frowned at him before turning his attention to the clipboard, flipping through it. “Gee, thanks Gwen! Where did you find it?” he asked, beaming so brightly at her that Jasper wished he’d brought sunglasses.

She rolled her eyes. “Buried under three months’ worth of paperwork,” she replied with a scoff. “You don’t even _do_ paperwork, what were you even looking for?”

“I think . . . that was Tuesday?” He tapped his chin thoughtfully, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. It was almost unbearably cute, and Jasper reached over and squeezed David’s hand. Shooting Jasper a quick smile, he continued, “I think that was when we needed Nikki’s medical records, for when she tried to adopt that porcupine!” (They all grimaced in unison; that had been a long day. Jasper was pretty sure his favorite sweater had become so full of quills it wasn’t salvageable, and Gwen still had a vaguely-child-shoe-shaped bruise on her collarbone.)

For a few minutes they were distracted by the campers’ game of Capture the Flag, But With Water Guns, Gwen making notes on her phone and muttering to herself about updating their arsenal while David tried to discourage Jasper’s bets on who would win (“It’s _unsportsmanlike_ , Jasp!”). The air was thick and heavy with humidity, the baking sunlight a tangible blanket draped over them, and Jasper wondered how the campers’ small bodies could hold so much energy. He settled back in his own decrepit chair, ignoring the irritated creak of dilapidated metal, and weighed the danger of falling asleep in the middle of a camp activity; with his coworkers nearby, the odds of being set upon by the little monsters wasn’t likely, but if they ran off he could end up with Sharpie drawings all over his face. (Again.)

“So are you two doing anything Friday night?”

David was lost in his own little world, scribbling his unreadable camp-related shorthand into his clipboard, so Jasper sat up, resigning himself to being awake. “Are you asking us out, Santos?”

 _That_ brought David into the conversation; he jerked in surprise, ripping a jagged line across his paper. “W- _what?”_

Her face was redder than even the heat would excuse, and Jasper couldn’t resist a smirk. “I think Gwen wants to be our unicorn,” he said, patting David on the back.

David spluttered his way through an embarrassed denial -- though denial of _what_ , Jasper wasn’t entirely sure -- but Gwen met his gaze steadily, realizing he was fucking with them. “Not what that word means, Jasp.”

“I -- I don’t think -- she -- that doesn’t --”

He laughed, leaning over and kissing David’s cheek. “Breathe, Davey,” he said, planting another peck on his hairline for good measure before sitting back. “It was just a joke.”

“Joke. Right,” he managed, swallowing hard and putting a hand to his flushed face. “That wasn’t very nice!”

“I’m not very nice,” he replied easily, blowing David a kiss before turning back to Gwen. “So what’s happening Friday night?”

The amusement faded from her eyes as she reverted back to her usual mopey self. “It’s . . . nothing, really.”

He groaned, loud enough that some of the nearer campers glanced over curiously. “We are _not_ playing that game. It’s too fucking hot for that.”

“Jasp! Language,” David scolded.

“Jeepers Christ,” Gwen mumbled, smiling at Jasper through eyes that practically sparkled in the late-afternoon gold.

“It was _jinkies,_ thank you very much,” he said, sticking his tongue out at both of them. “ _Jiminy Christmas_.” 

She snorted, and he felt like he’d earned a victory. After a moment she blurted out, “Will you guys come to Muffin Tops with me?”

Jasper felt his eyebrows shoot up, a huff of surprised laughter escaping him as he glanced over at David, who had turned into a mortified statue. “S’cuse?”

“Moral support, for fuck’s sake!” she snapped, her anger betraying her embarrassment. She gave Jasper a look and added, “It’s kinda . . . about the thing we were talking about the other day.”

It took him a minute to follow, since “the other day” was actually a couple of weeks ago, but he had a feeling that conversation and her anxieties about it had been taking up a lot of space in her head since then. Gwen wasn’t anywhere near an open book to Jasper, not like Davey was, but he was starting to pick up a tiny bit on her silences and mood swings now that he was paying attention. (He was actually making a friend for the first time in years! His mom would be so proud.) “Oh, yeah? Makes sense.”

David’s eyes widened and he covered his mouth with both hands, muffling a gasp. “Oh! Is this . . .” He glanced between them, then exaggeratedly lowered his hands and pressed his lips together, looking down at his feet. “Never mind,” he said primly, vibrating with barely-controlled glee.

Jasper dropped his head into one hand. “Good one, chief,” he muttered to David before guiltily looking back over at Gwen. “Sorry.”

She just shook her head, not looking angry . . . or at least not any angrier than usual. “No, I kinda figured you’d tell him.”

He opened his mouth to explain -- though really, “he’s my boyfriend and I’m bad at keeping secrets” was an objectively terrible explanation even though it was the truth -- when David jumped in, nearly falling out of his chair as he maneuvered to take both her hands in his. “Oh, Gwen, I’m _happy_ he said something! I’d hate to think that you felt you couldn’t count on . . . I mean, I know you didn’t _actually_ tell me, but I hope you would’ve eventually, because I support you a hundred and ten percent and I want you to know that this doesn’t change anything between us, I think you’re just swell and if anything I’m _impressed_ with your courage to --”

Gwen pulled her hands out of his grasp with an annoyed huff. “I didn’t think you were gonna disown me, David,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you were going to be all weird and emotional about it! It’s not a big deal.”

“ _I_ think it’s a big deal!” David shot Jasper a pleading look, his lower lip pooching out just slightly. “We want to be supportive!”

“His heart’s in the right place,” he said, coming to David’s halfhearted defense with a shrug.

She sighed, the irritation bleeding from her face. “I know,” she said, and patted David’s hand with what looked like a major physical effort. “It’s okay.” She looked back over at Jasper, her lips twitching upward just slightly. “But I’m happy to have the support of my gay dads regardless.”

“You’re older than us,” Jasper pointed out, at the same time as David asked, “Gay?”

He wasn’t sure if the confusion on Gwen’s face was at what either of them had said, or just from trying to parse out the two statements jumbled on top of one another. “Yes?” she said, seemingly in response to both. Shaking her head slightly, she evidently dismissed Jasper’s excellent point and added, “You guys aren’t . . . ?”

Jasper saw a golden opportunity and took it. “Might sound crazy, but it ain’t no lie, baby,” he said, then pointed at each of them in turn: “Bi, bi, bi.”

She booed quietly, making him grin; he bowed as well as he could without getting up from his chair, blowing kisses to an imaginary audience.

“It’s another thing we all have in common!” David exclaimed, eyes glistening. “Besides our love of Camp Campbell, of course.”

Their eyes locked over behind David’s back, and they both struggled to keep a straight face. “Riiiiight,” Gwen said after a long moment. “Anyway, Muffin Tops?”

David frowned. “Why wouldn’t you just update your Tinder profile? I know there aren’t a ton of folks around here, but . . .”

“Nuh-uh, I don’t even know for sure yet. No way am I leading some girl on so I can, like, _‘experiment’_ or whatever.”

The self-loathing bite in the word “experiment” hurt his heart, and he could tell David didn’t understand. Davey was a romantic all the way down to his bones, and they’d fallen in love so young; Jasper knew the entire concept of attraction without dating was kind of alien to him. Taking David’s hand, he squeezed it warningly and said, “Yeah, that makes sense. First dates are stressful enough without also trying to figure out your sexuality, right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” David admitted, his entire demeanor softening as he met Jasper’s eyes. “I’ve only had one, and it was pretty much perfect.”

He laughed, feeling his face heat up. “Trust me, it was _terrifying_. I didn’t sleep for months planning it all out.” 

* * *

#  **March 30, 2005**

##  _8:21 PM_

“It has to be perfect, Julia!”

“Oh, _does_ it? I wasn’t sure the first seven times you said that, but _now_ I think I finally get it.”

His best friend’s voice was sharp with irritation, but Jasper couldn’t stop worrying at the issue, like a dog digging up and reburying the same bone just to make sure it was still there. “The thing is, Davey is so romantic! So when I tell him, it has to be in the most romantic-est way possible, right? I don’t want him to think I don’t care!” He jumped up from his bed, pacing as far away from the phone as he could get before the cord would drag the base off his desk.

“Jasp, no one would ever believe you don’t care.”

“But what if he does?!”

“Then you can cut up all the phone bills you’ve cost our parents wangsting over this and turn them into confetti to shower Davey with. Your love is worth thousands of dollars.”

Jasper was _pretty_ sure she was exaggerating. “You could try being happy for me,” he said, pouting.

“I _was_ happy for you! I screamed so loud I was grounded for the rest of the weekend, remember? But it’s been like three months, Jasp, and I have math homework due tomorrow that makes zero sense. I am happy, but the happy is buried under other shit --” There was a muffled noise from her side of the phone, and he heard Julia cover her mouthpiece and call back, “Sorry, mom! _Stuff_ ,” she finished, returning to their conversation. “I promise, I’ll be super happy for you when midterms are over, okay?”

He sighed, knowing she was right (and that he had his own homework sitting neglected while he was talking with Julia). “Yeah,” he said, walking over to the grainy camp photo that hung on the back of his door. He smiled and poked the little girl with bright purple pigtails, knowing that she hadn’t worn her hair like that in years. “Sorry, Jules. It’s just . . .”

“I know,” she said, her voice a little gentler; he grinned at the girl in the picture and knew she was smiling at him too, a warm, braces-covered smile that he could hear in her voice over the phone. “It’ll be better when we’re all back at camp.”

He groaned -- it was an automatic reaction to the mention of Camp Campbell, even though he was counting the days till he was back -- sticking his tongue out at his own image in the photograph. His eyes landed on Davey, shoved to the opposite side of the picture like he’d been trying to duck out of the way, his smile small and obviously fake now that Jasper knew what he looked like when he was actually happy. His heart twinged, and he gently traced David’s tiny features with a fingertip. Gosh, it was _ridonculous_ how much he missed Davey. “Is it totally lame that I’m kinda scared? To tell him, I mean.”

“Yes. Super lame,” Julia confirmed with a laugh. “Super duper mega ultra lameasaurus rex --” 

“Shut up!” he said, giggling and immediately covering his mouth. (Ugh, he hated his laugh. When would he get a cool grown-up laugh like the teenager he _supposedly_ was?) “Go do your stupid math homework!”

“Maybe I will! Try not to think about your lame-o crush on Davey all night.”

He could hear his mom coming up the stairs, probably to tell him to finish his homework and go to bed, like he was a little kid or something. “Try not to drool all over your math book thinking about _Chloe_ ,” he teased back, fumbling one-handed in his backpack for the assignment he’d been supposedly working on. “Who’s lame now, huh?”

She gasped theatrically, making him snort. “She has a _blue streak in her hair_ , Jasp! That’s like, supes cool and you know it.”

He couldn’t argue with that; his parents wouldn’t let him dye his hair black and red like he’d been begging, so Chloe at least had cooler parents than he did. “Love you, Jules.”

“You too, lamebrain.” He was about to hang up when she added, “And try not to worry so much about Davey. _Obviously_ he loves you too.”

Jasper smiled, something in his chest fluttering. He knew Julia probably just thought that because she’d wanted them to get married practically since they met, but it made him feel hopeful anyway. “Obviously. Who wouldn’t?”

He hung up and got to work making it look like he’d been studying, just as there was a knock on the door. “Jasp, sweetheart, how’s the homework coming along?”

“Great, Mom!” he called back, wincing at the way his voice cracked. Once he’d heard the creak of her walking away from his bedroom, he smirked to himself and muttered, “ _not._ ”

Instead of paying attention to the book he was supposed to be reading -- something about gangs or whatever, which should’ve been radical but was just super boring and flowery -- he opened up his journal, turning to the page labeled “Perfect Date Ideas for Davey.”

Aside from the title, the page was completely blank. 

Jasper sighed and tapped his pencil against the infuriatingly idea-less paper, his gaze drifting away and out the window; he had no way or knowing, because he didn’t do any of that wilderness stuff anymore, but he liked to think he was facing the direction of David’s house, hundreds of miles away. Maybe even their bedrooms faced each other, or something like that. That’d be cool.

No, it wouldn’t. It’d be dumb -- and so was he for not knowing how to make a perfect date to tell David he loved him.

_“Obviously he loves you too.”_

“Yeah,” Jasper mumbled, slamming the journal closed and grabbing his English homework, “ _not._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how much fun it was trying to remember mid-2000s slang. It was a laugh and a half. Y'all remember "wangst"?


	3. July 8, 2016 / June 2, 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen takes a look around. Jasper takes a day off.

#  **July 8, 2016**

##  _7:29 PM_

“Ohh, goodness.” David clutched his hands close to his chest, eyes darting around them as they crossed the near-empty parking lot toward Muffin Tops. He huddled closer to Jasper’s side despite the oppressive heat. “Oh my gosh.”

“Will you fucking chill?” Gwen snapped, David’s nervousness clearly getting to her as well. “It’s not like you’re gonna be up on stage.”

“Okay, but I vote we get him up there at the first opportunity,” Jasper cut in, smiling despite the fact that he was feeling pretty weird himself. It wasn’t like he _normally_ took his friends to strip clubs in his spare time, after all. He wasn't that kind of guy (namely, a frat bro or the President). “I bet we could talk Bon into it if the place is dead enough.”

David’s fingers dug into his sleeve, hard enough to drag blunt painful lines down his arm. “Don’t!” he cried, once again glancing around.

Jasper leaned in and kissed David’s temple, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “It’s all good,” he assured him. “And none of our campers are local this year, so you don’t have to keep worrying about parents seeing us.”

“I’m not . . .” He trailed off, seeming to realize that it wasn’t worth trying to lie. His shoulders slumped defeatedly as Jasper ushered them into Muffin Tops. “Thank you,” he murmured, slipping inside, and he knew it wasn’t just for holding the door.

“Always,” he replied, and they fell into step behind Gwen. 

Or -- took a few steps, then immediately stopped because she had faltered to a halt, looking around the dim, noisy space with a panicked look in her eyes.

He leaned in close to David’s ear and said, “Remember Davey, we’re being supportive.”

His eyes widened and he stood upright with a start, like he’d just been caught falling asleep in the middle of a camp activity. “Oh! You’re right!” He pulled away from Jasper, bouncing up to Gwen’s side. “Where should we sit, CBFL?” he chirped; his enthusiasm was a little too child-friendly for this situation, but Jasper watched, impressed, as David led her to a booth near the back of the club with the determined good-naturedness of a sheepdog, settling her in and immediately hopping up to get drinks. “Would you like anything, Jasp?”

“Beer’s fine. Literally whatever’s closest.” He took a seat across from Gwen, and for a moment they both watched David disappear into the gloom. “Doing okay, sport?” he asked; they both winced at his profound dorkiness, but he tried to shake it off. “You look nice.”

She chuckled self-consciously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You sure?” For once they didn’t have to wear their counselors’ uniforms, and Gwen had blown her hair up like a 60s soap opera star and done . . . something to her face; Jasper wasn’t sure what, but it kind of made her look like a magazine cover version of herself. (If he’d ever managed to get his face to look like that, he’d probably stare into a mirror until he died of starvation like Narcissus. He resolved to look up men’s makeup later, just for the hell of it -- even though he’d probably come across more like an overweight vampire than David Bowie.) They’d had to talk her out of calling the whole thing off when she’d emerged from her room looking dressier than Jasper and David combined, but in the flashing colors and low light of the club Gwen looked infinitely more like she belonged than Jasper did in his vintage -- which was really a nice way to say “old and kind of trashy” -- technicolor clothes and David’s impossibly wrinkle-free polo shirt and jeans.

Jasper suddenly realized how improbable the three of them looked together, like they came from different planets. _A supermodel, a Mormon missionary, and a sentient pile of thrift-store rejects walk into a strip club . . ._

“Gwen,” he said sincerely, “I would bet a hundred bucks you could take anyone in here home if you wanted to.”

She snorted, looking pleased despite herself. “And yet it’ll just be you two.”

He leaned back, grinning. “I know,” he agreed, catching sight of David weaving through the tables, which were finally starting to fill up. “Aren’t you lucky?”

David set their drinks down with the grace of a bartender (which he was, the rest of the year) and slid into the booth next to Jasper. “Well, Gwen,” he said, folding his hands on the table like he was going to pray, “what do you think?”

She froze with her glass halfway to her mouth, eyes wide and wary. “About what?”

“All this, of course!” He gestured around the room, where a steady stream of people were picking their way through the tables scattered like islands through the low warehouse; where women, wearing glittery scraps of nothing that caught the lights like fireflies, were ferrying drinks to and from the bar and flirting with apparent regulars. No one was onstage at the moment, but there was an expectant hum underneath the pounding music, and two poles were lit up by spotlights. “Where should we begin?”

“Begin . . . what?” Gwen glanced over at Jasper, looking like she was regretting every recent decision. He shrugged, thinking that maybe David was being _too_ supportive now and wondering if he could possibly tone that shit down before something really stupid happened.

The sunshine drained from David’s face slightly, and he also turned to Jasper. “Gee, I don’t know.”

They were both looking at him, and he groaned. “Well, _I_ don’t know either! Pretty sure the only place I’ve ever been like this was some . . . furry vore land in Second Life. _That_ was a weird afternoon -- remind me to tell you about it later,” he added to Gwen, winking. “Why don’t we just ask Bon?”

David’s face brightened as Gwen’s paled. “We _so_ don’t need to --”

“What a neat idea, Jasp! Come on!” David leapt to his feet, taking Jasper’s hand before giving Gwen an appraising look. “. . . On second thought, maybe you should wait here. With . . .” He widened his eyes, jerking his head in her direction with all the subtlety of Groucho Marx.

Jasper reminded himself to never allow his boyfriend to consider a career in espionage. “What exactly are you expecting me to do? Tackle her if she makes a break for it?”

David either didn’t hear this comment or chose to ignore it, turning away with a wave and a cheery “Be right back!” before diving back into the growing crowd. Jasper just sighed and lifted his beer, clinking it against the drink Gwen had set down on the table.

“Cheers.” When she didn’t respond, slumping back in the booth like she was going to disappear under the table, he placed his hand on her forearm. She jumped at the sudden touch, nearly knocking her glass over, and with his beer-laden arm he gingerly slid it out of her reach. “What gives, Gwengarry Gwen Ross? I thought you liked Bon.”

The dumb nickname didn’t make her smile. “I mean, I _do_ ,” she said with a miserable shrug. “But of all the people here to talk to about this? After that play disaster?”

He winced at the memory. During one of Preston’s earliest plays of the summer, Max had stolen Gwen’s phone and changed everything from her “Looking For” (all genders, “anything as long as it’s nasty”) to her photo (Neil, who was at that age where boys kind of looked like gangly, awkward young women in the right light) and had snagged the attention of one of the few eligible townies in Sleepy Peak. That debacle had ended in an extremely awkward date between Gwen and Bonquisha Harding, a woman with the body of a pro wrestler and the personality of a monster truck. They were pretty good friends now -- and the four of them got together every few weeks to watch old movies -- but he could see why it might be uncomfortable to chat with her ex about lap dances or . . . whatever.

“I mean, I _told_ her I was straight! And now what? Like, is she gonna think I’m stalking her at work?” Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh fuck, what if she thinks I want to go out with her or something? Or what if she thinks I _don’t_ wanna go out with her? We decided this wouldn’t work because I was straight! And if I’m not? That’s so insulting! What if --”

“Breathe, Rumpelstiltsgwen.” She glared at him -- he had to admit, it wasn’t his best work -- and he handed over her drink along with his beer. “I think you need this more than I do.” She took both drinks, finishing them in record time, and despite the situation he was impressed. “You must’ve been fun in college.”

She snorted, glancing over Jasper’s shoulder and swallowing hard. He turned to see David scurrying back to their table, dwarfed by the beautiful gold-glittery amazon at his side. “H -- hi, Bon,” she said weakly as they approached.

“Hey, sugar!” Bonquisha kissed the air next to Gwen’s cheek and settled into the booth. She was wearing a shimmering bikini-type-thing (he wasn’t very good with women’s clothing) that reminded him of Princess Leia, and sparkles were splashed across her cheekbones and shoulders like freckles made of stars. “It’s fantasy night,” she explained at his curious look, hoisting up a fake spear before turning her attention back to Gwen. “Hear you’re looking to join the other team?”

Gwen buried her face in her hands with a groan, sinking down into her chair. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Aw, come on! It’s a great place to be!” Bon spread her arms across the back of their seat and grinned at Jasper and David, a wide, expansive smile that was impossible not to return. “Right, guys?”

David looked like he wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so Jasper jumped in: “Bonnaroo, I think Gwen’s a little nervous about how to . . . you know . . .” He raised his eyebrows, not sure how to explain what exactly they were here for. “Do it. Not -- not _it_ , but like . . . stuff. All of it. I should stop talking.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry, Gloomy,” she said to Gwen, flicking her ponytail affectionately, “we get a lotta women like that coming around here, so all the girls know it’s standard procedure. This is a good place to figure yourself out.” 

Gwen had been staring steadfastly at the table, but glanced over at Bonquisha, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Really?” she asked hopefully.

“Totally! Now, I gotta get back to work because they don’t pay me to pal around with my friends --” She winked. “-- but start by just looking, all right? You two,” she added, pointing at Jasper and David (who glanced at each other with some alarm), “you’re Gwen’s straight friends tonight, got it?”

Jasper suddenly felt like he needed a snapback and a sports jersey, maybe a shark-tooth necklace. “Guess we should get more beer,” he said to David, shrugging. “The more it tastes like horse pee, the better.”

“My man!” Bon held out her fist, and Jasper bumped it (feeling like the single whitest person on earth as he did so). “I’m due up onstage now or I’d get your drinks for ya. Tip Brandi well, she’s good people.” She put a hand on Gwen’s shoulder, her smile softening. “I’m proud of you, gloomy girl. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself, okay? Just have fun.”

As David escorted Bonquisha to the stage on his way back to the bar, Jasper studied Gwen’s face. She wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack, which was good, but she still seemed to have trouble looking away from the small tea light in the center of the table. 

He supposed this was where his role as “straight friend” came in. “Uhh . . . she’s cute,” he finally said, glancing across the room at a woman decked out like a mermaid, complete with shimmering waves of black hair and a blue-green tail . . . skirt . . . thing (he _really_ wasn’t good with women’s clothing) and feeling like the single skeeviest person on earth. 

Which . . . was probably good, considering where they were. He was in character.

She glanced up, following his gaze to the mermaid in question. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Not really my type, though.” She covered her mouth as a sharp, nervous laugh bubbled out of her. “What the hell am I saying? I don’t _have_ a type. I . . . god, what the fuck am I doing . . .”

“Hey,” Jasper said, leaning forward so she had to look at him instead of spiraling further. “It’s me, brah, your straight friend Jasper.” She snorted, some of the panic fading from her eyes. “And I’m telling you, as your straight friend, that we can leave any time you want. We’re here for you, Gwen.” 

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “No pressure, right?” she asked, and the look on her face was so sincere, almost plaintive.

“Not even a single psi.” He wasn’t sure he was saying that right, having slept through most of his science classes in both high school and college. But it brought a smile to Gwen’s face, so he considered it a job well done.

She shook her shoulders, leaning forward and resting her chin in her hand, and examined the crowd with interest for the first time since they’d arrived. “All right,” she mumbled, mostly to herself. After a few seconds of silence she sat up straight again. “Oh,” she breathed, then tapped Jasper’s arm and gestured unsubtly toward a woman wearing fairy wings and wreathed in pink flowers. “She . . . uh, makes my chest feel kinda fizzy?” Her eyes met his, uncertainty mixed with excitement in her face. “Is that . . . ? _”_

He glanced back in the fairy’s direction just as David bumped into her, balancing three beers. Despite his lack of hands, David steadied her with his elbow, his smile turning apologetic as he made sure she was okay before returning to their table. Their eyes locked and David’s smile widened. 

And . . . well, yes, the feeling in Jasper’s chest _was_ somewhat fizzy, because it turned out he wasn’t very good at being straight after all. 

“Yeah,” he assured Gwen, unable to stifle a silly grin as he watched David approach. “Yeah, that’s definitely in the ballpark.”

* * *

#  **June 2, 2005**

##  _4:56 PM_

Jasper closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bouncing from foot to foot as he waited for Davey to return from . . . which one was it today? Search and Rescue Camp? Jasper had pretended to be sick, sneaking out of his tent once everyone had left for the activity and making sure everything was perfect.

Or at least, as perfect as anything could get at Camp Campbell. Which, to David, was _already_ perfect. So maybe he actually had a shot at pulling this off.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the purple walkie talkie he’d brought from home. “Is everything ready? Over.”

There was a crackle of static, then Julia’s voice: “Just as ready as it was the last fifty times you checked. Over.”

Despite the facade of irritation, he knew his best friend was almost as nervous as he was. She’d been able to leave the activity early, claiming “woman sickness” (Jasper didn’t ask, and apparently neither did the counselors), and was currently camped out in the clearing they’d set up, making sure animals didn’t make a mess of things while he waited for David.

“Thanks, Jules. You’re a good friend,” he said, feeling a swell of affection in his chest. After a moment he quickly pushed the button again and added, “Over.”

“I love you, idiot. And there’s no way you could’ve pulled this off without me. Over.”

Jasper suddenly heard the muffled voices of the campers as they returned to their tents for free time before dinner. “Oh man, he’s on his way. Over.”

“You’ve got this, Jasp. Good luck. Over.”

He dropped the walkie talkie back into his pocket and sat down on the cot, staring at the opening of the tent and waiting for David to appear. He was so focused on waiting, in fact, that it was a surprise when the tent flap _did_ open, making Jasper jump and nearly fall off his cot.

“Hi, Jasp! How’re you feeling?” David didn’t seem to notice that he’d given Jasper a heart attack, bouncing over to his cot and flopping onto it with a sigh.

“Uh . . . a lot better, actually. Davey --”

“Shame you missed the activity! It was a real hum-dinger!”

Jasper was sure it was, and once again wondered why he even bothered coming back to this hellhole. “Hey, uh . . . do you think we could go for a walk tonight?” He glanced at his watch, pressing the button that made it light up even though he didn’t need to. “Like, now-ish?”

David sat up, frowning. “But we’ll miss dinner.”

“I know, but I got us our own dinner.” It had required a lot of scavenging from the Mess Hall (and from the counselors’ cabin), but it consisted of the very finest prepackaged and ready-to-eat goods the camp had to offer. “We just gotta swing by the Mess Hall and grab some stuff --” (he wasn’t going to make Julia risk having to fight off raccoons or bears over food that wasn’t vacuum-sealed), “-- and then we can head out.”

“Is that allowed?”

Jasper winced, scuffing the toe of his sneaker along the ground. He hadn’t prepared for that question. “It’s not _not_ allowed, I’m pretty sure . . .”

David crossed his arms. “I know I used to be a bit of a rebel, Jasper, but I’ve put that behind me now. I can’t go around breaking rules like a juvenile delinquent again!”

“Please, Davey.” His hands clenched into fists, his fingernails digging painfully into his palms. “Please, just this once. It’s really important,” he begged. “I can’t tell you why yet, but it’s the most important thing in the entire world, and I need you to come out for a walk with me. Okay?”

He looked at Jasper for a long moment, then his face softened into a small smile. “Of course, if it’s that important,” he said, and Jasper felt like he could collapse from relief. “Where are we going?”

He took a deep breath, stepping past David and leading the way out of the tent. “Come on,” he said, his voice cracking. “This way.”


	4. July 9, 2016 / June 2, 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gwen and Jasper both confess things they've been mulling over for a long time.
> 
> Results are . . . mixed.

#  **July 9, 2016**

##  _2:34 AM_

“That was awesome.” Gwen burped, loud and braying, and covered her mouth with a high-pitched laugh. “Oh my god, I just . . .” She swayed into David as they approached the cabin -- who of the two of her coworkers was not the most physically stable at the moment; Jasper grabbed both of their arms before they toppled over, gently leading them to the outside wall of the cabin and leaning them against it while he unlocked the door. (He’d volunteered to be the DD, since of the three of them he was the only one who could be sober in a strip club without having a panic attack. Besides, seeing David tipsy was always a good time, and he and Gwen had the most entertaining chemistry when drunk.)

“I’m so proud of you!” David threw his arms around Gwen for what had to be the fiftieth time that evening, and the second time since they’d gotten out of the car. “You are so brave, CBFL. I love you.”

“Nnnope.” She wriggled out of his embrace, striding through the door Jasper was holding open with the careful imperiousness of someone pretending to be much less smashed than they were. “You love Jasper,” she accused, poking Jasper in the chest to accentuate her point.

David gave her a wounded look, taking Jasper’s hand and following her into the cabin. “I can love lots of people! I do -- love . . . _lots._ Of people.” He pecked Jasper’s cheek (mostly; his mouth, sweet and bitter like the sangrias he favored, landed half on his ear, but it was close enough) and gave him a fond smile. “You’re my favorite, though,” he whispered, swaying in close as his expression turned comically serious.

“Thanks, Davey,” Jasper said, brushing his drooping fringe off his forehead. “You’re my favorite, too.”

“Ugh!” A heel spiraled end-over-end between their faces, hitting the wall behind them with a heavy _thunk_. “Gross!”

They turned toward Gwen, who had pulled her pajama shorts on under her dress and was sprawled across her bed with the skirt shucked up around her hips, staring up at the ceiling. “Gwen, that was really dangerous,” Jasper began; he rarely had to play the part of the camp’s sole grown-up, and it was surreal. “Don’t throw your --”

“She’s fine,” David said sagely, patting Jasper’s cheek and going to sit on his bed. “She’s just excited.” A sly smile crossed his face, and he leaned over and poked Gwen’s arm. “You like _girls_ ,” he teased, and for a second Jasper could hear the high-pitched Mickey Mouse voice he’d had as a child.

Her voice cracked. “What?! No I don’t!” She covered her face, then just as suddenly dropped them, struggling to sit up and folding her hands in her lap like she was praying. “No,” she said slowly, looking awestruck. “I _do_.” A giddy smile flashed across her face, and she buried her head in her hands again, giggling. “Oh my god.”

“I knew it!” David climbed to his feet and threw his arms around Jasper, snuggling his face into the crook of his neck. “Gwen’s gonna get a girlfriend,” he informed Jasper’s collarbone, his voice muffled but gleeful.

“Maybe,” Jasper replied, relieved neither of them were looking in his direction, because it was impossible to keep a straight face. “If she wants to.”

“Oh!” David’s head suddenly shot up, narrowly missing colliding with Jasper’s jaw, and he hurried over to Gwen’s side of the room, dropping to his knees clumsily next to her bed and shaking her arm. “Gwen! Gwen! We gotta set up your Tinder so you can date girls now!”

She lifted her head, looking a little pale; Jasper sincerely hoped she wasn’t going to throw up, since he was the only one capable of dealing with that at the moment. “Oh,” she replied, instantly sobering. “Yeah, I guess I should do that at some point.”

“Come on!” He shook her arm again, vibrating like an excited puppy and apparently oblivious to her lack of enthusiasm (which actually wasn’t very far off from his behavior when he _hadn’t_ been drinking). “Get your phone! Let’s do it now!”

She hesitated, and Jasper decided it was time to step in. “How about we do that in the morning, Davey?” he suggested, walking over and helping David to his feet. “You should get a nice big glass of water and brush your teeth, because you smell like a distillery.”

“Only because I was drinking!” he said, defensive for a reason Jasper couldn’t pinpoint. “ _I_ didn’t have to drive,” he added, with the smug air of someone making an excellent point.

He nodded, pressing his lips together to keep from smiling. “That’s true,” he agreed mildly.

“And tomorrow is Saturday!” (He didn’t bother to point out that _today_ was actually Saturday, and had been for almost three hours now.) “And we don’t have to be counselors on Saturdays, so I wasn’t being irresponsible!”

Jasper wondered how David “We’re counselors 24/7!” Greenwood would feel about that statement tomorrow . . . or rather, later today. “Great points, chief,” he said, aiming his boyfriend at the bathroom, “but you need to shower and brush your teeth now, because I’m not sharing a bed with you when you smell like this. I think I’m getting a contact high from your breath.”

Once David had disappeared into the bathroom, Jasper turned to Gwen, who was sitting slumped over like a doll whose batteries had given out, staring at nothing. “You okay?” he asked, adding her name after a second when she didn’t respond.

She looked up, jumping slightly, and shook her head. “Huh? Yeah, Jasp. Totally fine.” He waited a moment, sitting down on David’s bed to take off his shoes. “I don’t . . . know if I wanna date women, though.”

He glanced up, surprised. “Wasn’t that what tonight was all about?” And maybe he was too tired and she was too drunk to be having this conversation, but the question was a reflex more than anything.

“Yeah, it was, but . . .” She groaned, waving him away. “Don’t look at me while I say this. It’s weird and personal.”

Jasper turned away, staring at the pine tree clock hanging above the entrance to the cabin.

“Okay, so I kiiiiinda . . . had a girlfriend before. Once. Like, sorta.” He made an interested noise, not sure how else to express encouragement with his back to her, but it seemed to be enough because she continued, “When I was in middle school. There was this girl, and we . . . you know.” She let out a strangled sound that was half-groan, half-giggle. “We kissed and stuff. Nothing like . . . crazy. We were kids, you know?”

She seemed to be defending half of an argument he wasn’t aware they were having, so he just shrugged and said, “Right,” figuring that was a nice any-situation kind of response.

“It was only a couple of weeks. Her parents found out and got really mad, I guess, because she told me after school that . . .” He heard a swallow, then a shaky breath. “That I had tricked her into all that stuff, and she didn’t want to. She acted like I was, I dunno, some kind of freak or -- like, pervert.”

She made a noise like a sob, and Jasper asked, “Can I turn around now?”

“No,” she snapped, and so he waited while she sniffled and fumbled around her side of the room. After almost two minutes of silence she said, “I know that’s stupid. It happened like, forever ago.” There was something endearing about how much more often Gwen said “like” when she was drunk -- something almost vulnerable from the hard-as-nails grouch he was used to. “But I guess it kinda . . . fucked me up a little. And I know it has nothing to do with actually dating, but I’m . . .” She sighed. “A little scared,” she admitted. “That’s stupid, I know, but --”

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” She didn’t seem to have a response to that, and after a moment he continued. “You don’t have to do anything right away, Gwen. I know Davey’s a romantic and gets really enthusiastic about these things, but he’ll back off until you’re ready.”

“Don’t tell him, though.” There was a bite of urgency in her voice, and Jasper almost turned around, worried. “He’s so excited, and I don’t want him to feel sorry for me.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Thanks.” She laughed a little, closer to the bitter amusement of sober-Gwen than the exhilarated giggling she was prone to when tipsy. “You guys are so lucky. I wish I’d figured all my shit out when I was too young to be freaked out about anything.”

He snorted. “You think I wasn’t scared to tell David I loved him?” he asked incredulously, turning around to face her; she squeaked and pulled her blankets up to her chest, even though she was just as fully-dressed as she’d been a few minutes ago. (So, not as sober as she’d sounded, after all.) “Gwen, I almost passed out, I was so scared. I’ve been attacked by bears and almost died in a cave explosion, and those things weren’t _half_ as scary. Not even a quarter.”

He didn’t tell her, but Jasper had been afraid more than anything that David would react to him . . . well, just like her first girlfriend had. That fear had been so paralyzing he almost chickened out twenty thousand different times.

It’s just that, by then, he was in too deep to back out.

* * *

#  **June 2, 2005**

##  _5:20 PM_

“Wow, guys!” David’s eyes were huge as he spun in a slow circle. “This is amazing!”

Julia hopped up from the picnic blanket they’d set out in the center of the clearing, stretching. “I’m gonna head out,” she said, giving Jasper a conspiratorial wink. As she passed Jasper, she dropped her voice to a whisper: “You got this, bud.”

He managed a weak smile, clutching the pillowcase they’d stuffed full of stolen food to his chest and trying to remember how to breathe. “So . . .” he began, before realizing that he had no end goal in sight for that sentence. He shoved the pillowcase toward David, feeling like the biggest goober on the planet.

Davey smiled and took the food, plopping down onto the checkered blanket and laying things out as delicately as bags of off-brand chips and pudding cups could be laid out.

The clearing had been a discovery by the three of them one Saturday, and as far as they knew the rest of the camp was oblivious to its existence. Jasper had managed to smuggle in some tall candles from his parents’ Hanukkah supplies and had staked them deep in the ground so they wouldn’t fall over (ripping the nearby grass out of the ground so nothing flammable was nearby; he _had_ been Camp Campbell’s best camper for a while, after all). In the blue gloom of the forest, their light glowed warm and friendly, like fireflies or fairies.

It was hands-down the most romantic thing Jasper had ever done. (Admittedly, as he was a thirteen-year-old boy it didn’t have much competition, but he was still impressed with what they’d pulled off.)

Dinner was . . . normal. Of course it was; Jasper was so terrified he wasn’t sure he could keep anything down, but there was no universe in which he could hang out with David and not immediately find something to talk about. That was just how things worked, and had worked since they’d met -- long before they’d become anything resembling friends. Most of the conversation was about the day’s activity, which Davey was convinced Jasper would’ve loved (which Jasper very strongly doubted), before it veered, like usual, to video games. Or . . . specifically, the video games both their parents would allow them to play.

“It’s been voted the best game of the year a bajillion times! I showed you in _Nintendo Power_.”

Jasper snorted, shaking his head. “That doesn’t mean anything. _Pokemon_ \--”

“-- is awesome! But it just can’t compete with _Ocarina of Time_ and you know it.” David’s face was slightly flushed with excitement, the way he always got when they argued about anything.

Jasper suddenly wanted to kiss him more than he’d ever wanted to do anything. He cleared his throat instead and looked down at the crumbs scattered across the picnic blanket, brushing them into the grass as well as he could.

They were quiet for a second. Then David said, “This -- is perfect, Jasp. Really, I- I love it. But . . . what’s going on? Is everything okay?” He could tell from the slight hitch in David’s breath that he’d jumped to the conclusion that Jasper was going to give him terrible news: that he was dying, or quitting camp, or something equally terrible in Davey’s mind.

If only. Jasper closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He’d made things as perfect as he could. In terms of “the right moment,” it didn’t get more right than this. And he’d put it off long enough. Julia was right; he _could_ do this. In fact, in that moment Jasper felt that if he _didn’t_ do it right now, the feelings bubbling up in his chest and throat would explode out of him in a gory mess, and he’d die from keeping them inside.

“Davey, uh . . .” He licked his lips. They’d had so many boxes of juice-like flavored water -- why was his mouth suddenly so dry? “I think I might . . . like you. As more than a friend. Or -- love, actually? I guess I’m in love with you. And that’s just . . . you know, if you don’t, that’s cool beans, but I wanted to just, uh, say it. And . . .” He suddenly realized that if David was about to turn him down, they’d have to gather up the remains of this stupid romantic dinner in awkward silence. The thought was so unbearable that he began gathering things together while still talking, practically tugging the blanket out from under them in his rush.

“Jasp, wait --” 

He felt his foot hit something and uproot it from the ground.

Then the grass behind him burst into flames.


	5. August 11, 2016 / June 2, 2005

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything settles down, and the future looks bright.

#  **August 11, 2016**

##  _11:33 PM_

They were curled up on a chair, watching -- or trying to watch, through the almost-overpowering static -- a rerun of _Frasier_ when Gwen returned from her date. Her hair was a little less perfectly straight than it had been when she left ( _and so is she_ , he thought to himself, wishing he could give his brain a high five).

Jasper lifted the arm that’d been dangling off the side of the couch and shielded his eyes, gently shaking David awake with the one he still had draped across his chest. “Jinkies, Gwen, I can barely look at you, you’re glowing so bright.” ( _Jinkies_ , it turned out, was the kind of word that was hard to eradicate from one’s vocabulary after too many repetitions.) 

“Have a good time?” David mumbled, half-lifting his head off Jasper’s chest before giving up; even his fringe was drooping with exhaustion, which meant Gwen would probably be spared a long interrogation until he’d at least gotten some sleep.

She smiled, the kind of involuntary-uncontrollable sort of grin she’d been increasingly prone to since their night out. They really were becoming friends, Jasper marveled. Despite all odds. “It was really fun,” she replied, obviously trying to look cool as she ducked behind the stack of defunct camp brochures that had melded together from age and now served as a privacy screen. “She was . . . cute.”

“You’re not fooling anyone,” he said, raising his voice in mock accusation. “Stop trying to be cool.”

She stuck her head out from behind the stack, eyebrows raised. _“‘Trying’?”_

“You had a good time. Admit it.”

“I did! I’m gonna see her again next week, actually.” She joined them in the cabin’s excuse for a “living room,” changed out of her ladykiller dress and in ratty old pajamas. She threw herself into the remaining chair and for a few minutes they all tried to make out what hijinks were going on with the Crane family. “Is it okay that I still prefer men?” she asked, flinching at the sound of her own question. “I mean, can I even still call myself . . .”

Jasper shrugged, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I hope so,” he said, “because I do, and I have no intentions of getting kicked out of this party now.” She looked over at him, her expression soft and vulnerable, and he forced himself to power through the awkwardness and continue, nudging David awake again (because he was going to be _so_ mad at himself if he slept through another one of Gwen’s Big Moments). “I think most bi people aren’t totally fifty-fifty, you know?” he continued. “We can’t all be like Davey.”

Still drowsy, David struggled into a sitting position, rubbing his face with one hand. “I don’t have a preference,” he mumbled, sounding sleepily indignant.

“Literally our point, Pikachu,” Jasper answered, pecking him on the cheek. “Good job keeping up.”

Gwen watched them both, her expression hard to read. It wasn’t angry, or annoyed, but it wasn’t altogether happy, either. It was . . . soft, and maybe a little melancholy. “Pikachu?” she repeated, her brows furrowing together.

“Sure! He’s . . . you know, peppy, and cute, and got all this energy like someone stuck a lightning bolt up his ass. _Butt_ ,” he corrected quickly, giving David a thumbs up of self-approval at his catch.

David sighed and scratched his head, his brain seeming to have come fully online now. “You _know_ swearing isn’t the problem with that sentence, Jasp.” He turned to Gwen, his face lighting up. “But I’m so happy you had such a good time!”

Jasper nodded, shoving David over just enough so that his bony elbow wasn’t jammed directly into his right hip flexor. “Yeah,” he agreed. “You had a good time. That’s really awesome.”

“But what about --”

He held up his hand; if she was going to keep looking at him as her queerness Yoda, he was going to enjoy listening to himself ramble on. “Look, just because you’re more _likely_ to be attracted to one doesn’t mean anything except that, in a room of both ladies and dudes --”

“And others,” Gwen added.

“And others,” Jasper continued, ignoring David’s look of faint confusion for the moment -- sometimes his boyfriend had gaps in his knowledge that were inexplicable, considering he hadn’t grown up under a rock in the middle of the woods like he _so clearly_ wished he had -- “you’re a little bit more likely to go home with a guy than a girl. Which, hey, same.” He held up his hand, making no move to get up properly.

She returned his air five halfheartedly, but somehow even her eye roll seemed more cheerful than usual, and he took a moment to pat himself on the back for how well he’d gotten this summer at speaking Gwenese. “That makes sense, I guess,” she said, still not quite looking ready to let herself off the hook, but also clearly glowing from the date.

“It’s all about staying open, that’s all.” Jasper hooked his arm around David’s shoulders, tugging him back against his chest. “Like, take Davey.”

David frowned, glancing up at Jasper uncertainly. “Take me where?”

“Listen with your ears, not your mouth,” he said, kissing the top of David’s head before turning his attention back to Gwen. “But anyway, he doesn’t have a _preference_ , but he definitely has _types_. Which I am definitely not.”

David gasped, craning his neck to meet Jasper’s eyes. “That’s not true! You’re perfect.” He actually sounded a little wounded.

“Obviously, and also my point. You can totally fall in love with someone who isn’t your preferred _whatever_ , as long as they’re as charming and awesome as me.” He grinned at her, batting his eyelashes. “You’re doing all the right things, Gwendel.” She frowned, apparently not understanding, and he sighed. “Grendel? Like from _Beowulf?_ Come on, you were supposed to get that! Where did you get your liberal arts degree?”

“Here,” she said, her face and voice completely deadpan, and he laughed.

“I don’t have a _type_ ,” David muttered, crossing his arms. He was obviously very resentful, but it was hard to take him seriously when he looked like a stretched-out toddler.

Jasper raised his eyebrow. “Oh, really? We share computers. I know all your secrets. Do you want me to put you on blast in front of Gwen?”

He blanched, covering his face with his hands. “Fine,” he squeaked, glaring up at Jasper through his fingers. “It’s -- it’s not weird!”

He laughed and patted David’s cheek. “That’s what I’m saying! Even if I’m not some super buff guy -- or a terrifyingly strong black woman,” he added with an evil grin, because he had to put his boyfriend on blast just a _little_ bit for forgetting to delete his search history, “doesn’t mean we aren’t happy. Love’s weird.” Jasper looked up at Gwen, who was watching them with fond exasperation. “And Gwenda the Good Witch, you’re way too dynamite not to fall in love with someone awesome, no matter who or what they end up being.”

“‘Or what’?” she repeated, frowning.

“Just leaving the door open for more fish friends.”

“ _Thanks.”_ She laughed, lobbing a pillow at them. “So Bon is totally David’s type, huh?”

“No!” David cried, at the same time as Jasper said, “Oh, absolutely.”

After she’d left to get ready for bed, David murmured sleepily, “She’ll find someone, right?”

“Without a doubt,” Jasper replied, helping him out of the chair. “She’s gonna be just fine.” He cupped the sides of David’s face, taking a moment to just . . . look at him. The brilliant green eyes that shouldn’t be natural, the faint spray of freckles across his nose and cheeks, the little scar by his right eye from a raccoon that he’d gotten his first summer as counselor. It was a face that was always changing, and somehow never stopped being even more familiar than his own. He traced David’s bottom lip with his thumb, then kissed him. “After all, _we_ turned out okay.” 

* * *

#  **June 2, 2005**

##  _10:02 PM_

Jasper sat huddled on the ground outside the Mess Hall with a shock blanket around his shoulders, watching the flashing lights of fire trucks and police cars. Though really, what were the cops doing here? Was it a crime to have a romantic date and accidentally set the forest on fire?

(Actually, it might be. He’d have to look into that later.)

Darla was inside, on the phone with his parents; Gregg was arguing with a cop over by one of the police cars, and who the heck knew where Mr. Campbell was? Probably off on some stupid, probably-illegal adventure. These cops should really be here to take _him_ away, not Jasper! 

To be fair, he was . . . almost a hundred-percent sure he wasn’t _actually_ going to be hauled off to jail. But he also had the sinking suspicion that, whether he had to spend the rest of his life behind bars or not, he was in serious trouble.

It didn’t help that he hadn’t seen Davey since the fire had started, when he’d sprinted off to call 911 before Jasper had been able to do anything except stare dumbly at the fire -- and then pour the remaining packs of Capri Sun on it. It turned out juice-like beverages weren’t very good at putting out forest fires, which was probably why fire trucks didn’t use it instead of water. Though that was a funny mental image . . .

Maybe this was what shock was. He wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders and tilted his head back, watching the thin remaining smoke wind up into the stars.

“Hi, Jasper.”

He jumped, snapping his head down and around so fast it made his neck pop. Maybe if he broke his neck, he could go to the hospital instead of having this conversation? “Hi, Davey.”

David sat down next to him, his own lead-gray blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He and Jasper had given their statements to the authorities -- which included their counselors, who Jasper didn’t really think had much of an authority on anything except making out when they thought no one was looking -- separately, which meant he couldn’t even squeeze David’s hand or reassure him at all that things were going to be okay. He’d taken all of the blame, of course; he’d been so adamant that David had nothing to do with it that eventually one of the firefighters had just tossed the shock blanket over his shoulders to shut him up more than for any actual emotional trauma. (To be fair, it’d worked, because he’d been so surprised to have a blanket suddenly flung at him that he’d quietly let them steer him away from the authorities and over to this spot of grass, where he’d been waiting for more than an hour to learn his fate. 

“Are you okay?” David asked after a moment, glancing from the flashing lights to Jasper’s face.

He shrugged. “Worst-case scenario, they send me home. Mom and Dad’ll be annoyed, but they’re not gonna do anything except take away computer privileges, and if you’re here for the rest of the summer there’s no one worth talking to online anyway.”

David frowned. “You don’t really think they’ll send you home, do you? They’ve never done that for me during my first years at camp, when I was a real _bad boy_.” He said the words like he was picturing James Dean.

“We’ll see.” They didn’t speak for a moment, until Jasper couldn’t take the awkwardness. “Listen, Davey, it’s okay --”

He stuttered to a halt as David’s mouth collided with his cheek, in what was probably supposed to be a sweet peck but due to nerves had been far too forceful, a lips-first headbutt that practically knocked him off balance. They both froze, David’s breath hot and still just slightly orange-scented against his jaw, as Jasper’s brain struggled to come online. He turned his head slowly, afraid that if he made a sudden movement he’d scare the moment away and David might come to his senses. But he didn’t move away, and finally their noses bumped together and their eyes met.

“I don’t . . . know what’s happening, Davey,” Jasper admitted, feeling like a massive idiot.

David’s eyes were pure blue in the light of the police sirens, and they shone. “I love you too, Jasp,” he said, putting a tentative hand on his knee. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to tell you sooner, but --”

Jasper tilted his head, turning his body towards David and letting the shock blanket fall from his shoulders. He lifted one hand to David’s cheek, marveling at how soft it felt against his palm. “Is this okay?” he whispered, leaning in until their lips were a hair’s breadth apart. “I don’t have to, uh . . .”

The hand on Jasper’s knee tightened spasmodically, in a way that was undoubtedly unintentional, and David pressed forward, those beautiful eyes falling shut. Their first kiss was brief, hesitant, and shivered down Jasper’s body like an electric shock, and when David pulled back it felt like a physical loss. “I love you,” he repeated, his breath catching.

And right then Jasper decided there was no way in heck he was going home early. He wasn’t leaving this camp unless they dragged him out. “I love you too,” he said, and kissed him again.


End file.
